Pleasure Through Payne
by Troph
Summary: Returning from a pleasant afternoon, Podrick is unprepared for the reactions of his liege lord and the sellsword who follows him. An adaptation of a bro moment from the show.


Podrick had a bit of a spring in his step as he walked back from the brothel. The noise and filth of King's Landing didn't bother him as much today as it might've yesterday. Or as much as it might tomorrow. Today, Podrick felt light as a feather and his entire body sang sweetly with the fruits of the last few hours. The ladies had been incredibly nice to him and Lord Tyrion had been even nicer to pay for them.

The thought of Lord Tyrion brought Podrick's attention to the bag of gold coins jingling in his pocket. He was slightly nervous about what his Lord would say once he gave it back; you could never tell with high-borns and how they viewed money. For now, though, he let his mind wander back to the bed with the lovely women who had shown him such a fun time. He was grateful for it, though he wasn't sure why anybody would pay for it. He'd heard soldiers often talking about their lusts, how they couldn't possibly go one more day without a good whore to warm the sheets. Personally, Podrick didn't understand the obsession; it had been a very pleasant afternoon, that was all. Now it was time to move on.

The spring in his step didn't stop as he entered Lord Tyrion's chambers, stepping out into the garden and making his way towards his Lord's open-air office. He could hear him speaking from across the courtyard.

"…it's not my father I'm worried about," he was saying. Podrick imagined he was talking to Ser Bronn; the former sellsword seemed to follow him wherever he went. Podrick wasn't sure how he felt about Bronn; he had never threatened Podrick, but he didn't seem like a particularly good man.

"It's the Iron Bank of Brothers," Lord Tyrion continued and Podrick heard the faint sound of a page turning. "We owe them tens of millions. If we fail to repay these loans, the bank will fund our enemies. One way or another, they always get their gold back." They were talking about money, Podrick thought as he came insight of his Lord. He thought that an interesting coincidence.

Lord Tyrion caught sight of Podrick and his face split into a devilish grin. "Ahh," he called out as Podrick entered the office, "the return of the conquering hero!" He looked over at Bronn, sitting across from his desk. "Does he have a little jaunt in his step?"

Bronn smirked. "The lad's practically skippin."

"You were gone a long time," remarked Lord Tyrion. "I trust you got your money's worth. Or, rather, my money's worth."

Podrick gave a sigh of apprehension as he stiffly dropped the bag of coin onto Lord Tyrion's desk. Lord Tyrion frowned and Podrick's stomach gave a nervous jerk.

"Oh, it was a gift, Podrick," Lord Tyrion said. He sounded as if he was trying to assure Podrick, though he couldn't imagine of what. "This is more than I give you in a year."

"He's a squire," Bronn pointed out. "You don't pay him." Podrick shrugged.

"Oh, well then this is _much_ more than I give you in a year." Lord Tyrion was still frowning at the little purple bag clasped between his small fingers. Now came the part that was difficult to explain.

"They wouldn't take it, my lord," said Podrick, nervously shaking his head. Lord Tyrion's frown went from one of disbelief to one of confusion.

"Maybe they're trying to curry some favor with the new Master of Coin?" Bronn suggested. Lord Tyrion looked at him like he'd suggested horses could fly.

"Have you ever known a whore to turn down gold?" he asked, incredulous. "They were happy enough to take it when _I_ gave it to them."

Bronn frowned, looking up at Podrick from his chair. "What'd you tell them?"

Podrick shook his head. "I didn't tell them anything."

"Well, what did you _do_ to them?" Lord Tyrion's voice was unusually high in pitch.

Podrick blushed slightly. This was not where he thought it was going. "Lots of things," he replied.

"And they seemed to _like_ these things?" Lord Tyrion asked, leaning in, looking like he was hanging off Podrick's every word.

"Yes, my lord." Podrick was thoroughly perplexed.

Bronn spoke up. "Of course they seem to like it. They're _paid_ to seem to like it."

"Only they weren't paid," Lord Tyrion pointed out. Bronn's frown deepened.

"What're you saying?" he asked. "These ladies enjoyed him so much they gave him the time for free?" Bronn stared at Podrick in disbelief, mouth agape.

"Is that what you're telling us?" Lord Tyrion pressed. Podrick didn't know what to say. Why were they looking at him like this? It would've been easier if Lord Tyrion had been angry with him about the money; that he could've navigated. This confusion was unexpected, uncharted territory and, as far as he could tell, without cause. He stared at his feet, looking anywhere but at the two men looking at him like he'd descended from on high. A moment of silence passed, the only sounds being the rustling leaves and chattering birds in the garden.

The sound of clinking coin brought Podrick's attention to Lord Tyrion, who had slapped the money bag on his desk and was now rising from his chair. Podrick flinched, expecting to be beaten for doing something wrong, but Lord Tyrion only commanded him to sit. Bronn practically jumped from his chair, mouth still open in awe, and lowered Podrick down into the seat. Lord Tyrion waddled back over, a silver goblet in one hand and a pitcher of his favorite summer wine in the other.

"We're going to need details," he said, shoving the cup into Podrick's hands and pouring him a large draft of the bright red drink. "_Copious _details."

Podrick stared into his cup, thinking that maybe if he stared hard enough at the wine that he would catch up to what was happening. It was all too much; Tyrion Lannister, the master he served and the son of the most powerful lord in the Seven Kingdoms, had just given him a cup of his favorite wine in a pricy silver goblet. Bronn had given up his seat so that he could rest his legs. And both were staring at him so intensely he thought his hair might catch on fire. This kind of thing didn't happen to squires, especially not squires like him. He couldn't speak, just stared between the two of them, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the curtain to be pulled back on whatever madness this was.

"Just start at the beginning," Lord Tyrion prompted, tipping the goblet up to Podrick's lips. He took a sip and told them everything.


End file.
